Tag Archives: development-work

On empathy

14 Nov

After having read Peter Singer’s ‘The life you can save’ and Tracy Kidder’s ‘Mountains Beyond Mountains’ I have been trying to understand why it is that we are so disconnected from the people who need us the most.

There are better examples in the books, but I liken it to suffering by a member of your family. If your brother or sister were dying most people would give close to everything they had to keep them alive.

Perhaps an even better example is someone in our own community. A friend of mine gave birth to a child with cystic fibrosis. Soon after my family donated a sum towards cystic fibrosis research. (And you can too, here).

Firstly, why do we feel this desire to help those close to us? And secondly why is it that we don’t have the same feelings towards people in much greater need?

This feeling of disconnection was exemplified for me when I visited the Museum of Modern Art in San Francisco. There was an artwork which consisted of letters from people in the third world.

Are we that disconnected that we can turn the words of suffering from others into a museum piece, just by putting it behind glass?

I’ve been asking people this question for some time and have been getting some interesting responses.

Some have said that it comes down to the moment. Family and friends are in your face, and tend to pull at the heart strings. Giving to someone you don’t know tends to be more of a rational decision – and when people think about it, they tend to give less. Singer makes a similar argument in his book.

Others have pointed to a need to be saturated in a person’s situation to really get it. This is easy with people you know because you already see part of yourself in them. But harder with someone you don’t know.

Perhaps the answer really does just come down to empathy. We just don’t get how difficult it is to not have access to reliable light, banking services, or a road or decently priced quality healthcare.

Because if we did, maybe we would do more about it.

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  •  Interesting words here from Sacha Dichter on how empathy alone is still not enough.
  • For those missing the three-reasons-to-love series, I’m resting it (Hat tip to the ever wonderful Diana) :) It’ll be back shortly, when inspiration returns.

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So, what exactly is it that you are doing in India?

6 Nov

Um, so India has been a bit of a side trip.

Not that this whole year hasn’t been a bit of a side trip, but this was an unexpected side trip.

It all started with this 40 year mission thing I’ve been talking about.

Actually it really all started on Christmas Day of this year, when my father introduced me to my distant cousin Clary and his charity, the 40k foundation.

(Totally unrelated to the 40 year thing, but I must admit it is all turning into quite a nice little story arc).

So then Clary introduced me to the brilliant Jamie, who then became my great friend, who then technically reintroduced me to Clary.

I wrote to Jamie asking him what he thought I should do with my $10K.

“Why not try to bring electricity to the community Clary is working with in India?”

“Yes, why not?” a voice in my head thought. “I could have a go at least. It is what I’ve been trying to do all year.”

And then I said it out loud.

I’d negotiated 2 months off from my position with Good Return to spend time in San Francisco undertaking the sorts of activities that a normal person of my age would be undertaking whilst on holiday.

(Surfing, kayaking, attending a wedding, picking up a boyfriend, you know, all that).

But then some logistical issues involving the wet season in Nepal and some super advanced engineering courses meant my 2 months was going to be cut down to 5 weeks. Which meant I had three weeks left to not be in San Francisco.

And so here I am.

I must admit I’m still really trying to figure out what it is that I’m doing here.

I’ve been lost in more places in Banglaore than I’ve been found. I’ve ripped my pants wide open. Walked into a glass door so hard it gave me a lump for a week. Broke my kindle. Picked up traveller’s diarrhea. Beaten myself up over feeling bad about any of this considering how easy my life is, really.

And been lonely as all hell. (Not so silent thank you to the ever relevant Rumi.)

All I can do is hope that all this is even vaguely worthwhile for a small community I’ve seen, no more than an hour from the Times Square-esque road I sit on now.

One with no rights to land on which they live. No electricity. No running water in their houses. No toilets.

And huge laughs as they watched me feebly use their hammer to manually break granite, as they do, in their quarry.

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A game

22 Aug

Here is a game I’ve been playing with myself.

It’s called “What would I do if I was reacting from a place of love?”.

When something frustrates me. Or I don’t like someone’s style.

Or when I have to do something I really do not want to do.

Or, most of all, when the part of me I don’t like thinks that it would like to see things because ‘then I’d really get it’.

I play this game because I know the person who loves would rather it that these things did not exist for them to see.

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On rain and courage

1 Aug

I love the rain. I love the change it brings to Sydney.

I love how it matches my mood when I am sad. I love how it makes me smile when I am happy.

I dream of puddles I can jump in. Rivers I can kayak. (Or, at least, rivers my friends can kayak)

I actually stopped hanging my clothes out to dry because it made me stress out whenever it rained.

And who wants to stress out over the rain?

It’s the rainy season in the Philippines.

And I’m working with our microfinance partner following around their loan officers on their weekly meetings. Groups of 10 – 20 women meet each week to access basic banking services. And a loan officer visits three of these each day.

We wait for the torrential rain to stop so we can travel to the next centre. We are late, the women are waiting.

One women is soaked. She had to cross a river to get to the meeting. Another is ashamed to let me use her bathroom because the floor is soaked in mud from the rain. Some of their businesses have failed – the rain destroys the vegetables that they grow to sell and they cannot grow rice.

The noise from the rain hitting the tin roof is deafening – we have to wait for it stop to be able to speak. It is impossible to keep the rain out, everything gets wet. “This is our life” they say.

And I think of Sold by Patricia McCormick and how it would be for those that don’t have a tin roof in this rain. And actually, I see them. As we move, from centre to centre.

These women – they keep telling me I must be so brave – to travel around all on my own.

I don’t say anything.

I think about the size of their loans compared to their income. I think about how I’ve never had to take out a loan in my life.

I think about how they must cross a river without a bridge to access savings facilities and insurance. I think about how I do that at home, in bed, on the net, while eating pancakes.

I think about them desperately trying to keep the rain out. And the warm shower and dry bathroom that will be waiting for me at the end of the day.

And all I can think is that these women are some of the bravest people I know.

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Life in Ghana part 2 (or, the value of patience, take 2)

16 May

Seeing as the last post elicited so much feedback here are a few more thoughts on Ghana, thus far.

Wow, the passion.

In addition to an amazing sense of humour – Ghanaians are so, so impassioned. Especially when it comes to the top three: Ghanaian politics, religion and the sport of all sports, soccer. (Sorry, football).

I am constantly being asked about what I think about Ghanaian politics. And actually, politics in general. I swear people here know more about politics in Australia than many Australians do.

Then I am asked about religion. (Wait, you are not Christian? You must come to my church!).

Then my favourite soccer team. (WAIT, WAIT, WAIT. You DO NOT HAVE A FAVOURITE TEAM?!).

Doing business.

Or should I say, doing bureaucracy.

Nothing is available online. No one knows the phone number of the person you need to speak to.

You first need to go to this building. (I don’t know the street, but it is around the corner from that building. You don’t know it?)

Then, you need to find out when said person is back from lunch/meeting/taking over the world.

Then when you meet said person, you need to come back with a letter, typed on letterhead with your request.

Then you need to pay at the cashier and wait 5 working days for your answer.

And yes, you will need to sit 2 hours in traffic either way, each time.

Working with NGOs

This has reminded me how hard it is working at a distance – with organisations you don’t know and with people you’ve never met.

With international consultants. International investors. International donors. Who fly in, and then fly out. Who expect answers and results, right away (thankyouverymuch).

Who send different people, with no warning, every time. (Who still expect answers right away).

Who change their addresses and bank account details and don’t tell you.

Who have given me much respect for the Acumen Fund’s mantra of “patient capital”.

And plenty of much needed time to work on my patience.

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Why I don’t want to save the world (or, the value of seeking first to understand)

11 Apr

I remember in high school I was often told I wanted to save the world. (Strange that I should be told what I wanted).

Around the same time that my father bought me lessons in a manual car because he thought I’d be driving 4WDs in some rugged developing country.

An old classmate saw me working in retail during university and remarked that she always thought “I’d be doing something more remarkable with my life”.

At work a colleague told me “never forget your dreams of saving the world”.

Funny, I don’t remember saying I wanted to save the world.

I don’t.

What I want is to understand it better.

To see what it is actually like to not have running water. Or electricity which goes off all the time.

To learn what it means to cook over an outdoor fire every day. To not have access to a savings account, or banking services.

To visit a Government Ministry with open doors, ceiling fans and chickens running around on the floor.

To see the look in someone’s eyes right after they are told they cannot go home because of civil war.

To see someone who jumps at thunder because it sounds too much like bombs going off.

To meet people from places where 20% of the population are enslaved. (And to hear from others who call these places ‘the armpit of the world’).

It is not enough for me to just read about these things, to know about them. I want to see them. To feel them.

I don’t want to save the world.

I just want to understand it better.

And maybe then I will be able to better understand the contribution I can make.

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